new apartment
by Perdue
Summary: John and Dave are finally moving into an apartment instead of living in the shitty dorms. Not that the apartment is much better. John is starting to realize that having Dave there more than makes up for it. OS. John/Dave


short piece based off tumblr/devart's **piratenkoenigin**'s headcanon

**Warnings: **Fluff. that is all.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, yeah, Andrew Hetsie gets the credit for these characters.

**new apartment  
><strong>_-_

"Okay I'm going to drop it. Fuck Dave it's too heavy, don't make me fall down these stairs carrying _your _box of shit!"

Just when John thinks he's going to lose his balance and do a ridiculous tumble down the stairs leading up to their new apartment, Dave is behind him, one hand on his back to steady him and the other pushing against the bottom of the box that looks suspiciously like it's about to collapse and spill the clothes inside all over the ground. "Warned you 'bout the stairs, bro." John tries to not notice the way Dave's fingers linger on his shoulder blade before taking the box out of his hands, or the infuriatingly teasing smirk on his face. _Tries_ being the operative word, here.

Deciding to not dignify Dave's dumb reference with a response, John turns to head back to the car and grab something a little lighter. Despite almost falling and possibly breaking his neck, he has to admit he's in a fantastic mood. After two years of living in residence halls together, it's about time he and Dave are able to get their own place. It's cheap as shit, one bedroom, combined dining and kitchen, and even with that there might not be enough money to pay for heating. Regardless, it's _theirs_, and he's ecstatic at the thought of even a shred of privacy.

With bedsheets and pillows in hand John walks back up to the apartment, Dave passing him saying that he shouldn't bother making the bed yet because he needs help getting his turntable and speakers up the stairs. So instead, when John enters the small bedroom, he throws everything onto the single queen and heads back out the door, barely fazed at this point that he and his best bro will be sharing each night. It wasn't too terribly uncommon for them, to be honest, even if most best bros don't do stuff like that. Sometimes, it was just hard to be alone. Knowing that Dave was beside him was usually enough to fight away the nightmares.

And in the cases that it wasn't, John couldn't help but remember fondly the ensuing mornings waking up to Dave's arms around him, and wondering embarrassedly to himself if him groaning in his sleep had woken Dave up in the middle of the night and Dave had tried to calm him down, or if Dave had slept through it and just instinctually knew from the close proximity that John was in need of comfort. He isn't entirely sure which possibility is more endearing.

John would never admit these things to Dave, of course. He isn't entirely sure what it means that Dave's eyes on him makes his stomach feel fluttery, or that when Dave casually touches his arm or shoulder (which he's been doing a lot recently), John sort of wants to lean into it, or that John secretly really looks forward to going to sleep because he knows that Dave will be so physically near, and…

Jumping the last few stairs, John grins at Dave, who is leaning against the car, poker face intact. "You're so slow, bro. And shit, since when was I a poet?"

"Maybe you should rap about how slow I am!" John remarks, wriggling his eyebrows as they reach into the trunk and each grab one end of the turntables.

"Yeah, maybe if we ever finish moving in I might be able to get around to that."

The turntable is the last item, and so Dave maneuvers his elbow so that he can close the trunk, and they make their way back up the stairs for the last time that afternoon. There are boxes everywhere, the small table, the counters in the kitchenette, the floor in the living room. But for now, they are tired and want a break, so John connects the television and the DVD player and pops in Armageddon, to Dave's incessant complaining. But when he sits down next to Dave, the back of Dave's hand kind of brushes against his and then stays there. They fall silent, eyes on the television screen, and John doesn't bother to react, only trying his hardest to fight the urge to interlock their fingers.

_I've got a secret or two  
>Hiding somewhere but<br>It won't take long  
>No, it won't take long<br>_For Annabelle, Band of Horses


End file.
